ff,--I would not think of it,--I did not wish her to give up a
friend for me,--that there were obstacles to my accepting which I could
not tell her of, and so on. I scarcely knew what to say in refusing
without wounding her feelings.

"I am sorry I told you, for you won't think as much of me as you
did,--it's the simple truth,--you don't believe me?--only come up and
see me." But I could not then think of displacing a cabman, I did not
even like to think of my prick having taken its pleasure in the cunt
which had wriggled the prick of a cabman. My experience in life might
have told me, had I thought about it, that the possibility was that my
prick might have rubbed up the same channel that a burglar's had. I
only saw that I was asked to displace a common man in the affection of
a street-doxy, I appreciated the affection which prompted the offer of
exchange, felt gratified and sorry at the same time, especially when I
saw tears in the poor woman's eyes.

I again said I would if it were not such a long way off, but perhaps I
would, and so on. I never did go to her house, but saw her from time to
time, until I fell madly in love with a lady of pleasure and would have
given almost my life for her to have loved me. So Bessie was avenged,
for I had fallen in love with a doxy after all.

When this infatuation occurred I ceased seeing Bessie. Then in my
trouble a year or two afterwards I sought her again, and told her my
trouble. "Ah! you would not love me when I was fond of you, but you love
her, and she plays on it,--don't you let her fool you," said Bessie,
"she has got a man,--all you give her he will get, I know it from what
you tell me." Bessie was right, but Sarah after a time as I shall tell,
did not deceive me about the matter.

Then I missed Bessie for a year or two, then found her again in the
Strand, she was much altered. "I don't think I ever liked a man to fuck
me as I do you," said she one night as she enjoyed me, "if you had but
come up to my little home you would have saved me a lot of trouble." But
I could not get out of her what she meant by that.

Full five years afterwards, when roaming about not far from the
Haymarket one night I met her, and scarcely knew her. She stopped short,
"You Bessie!" "Ah! yes it's Brighton Bessie, but I'm sadly altered, sure
enough." "And you knew me?" "Know you!--I should know you by your eyes,
if I saw nothing more of your face but your eyes,--I should know you to
the last